Ficlets and prompts
by Tigerwalk
Summary: A space for Richonne prompts and writing submissions I have done, as well as any other mini fics that fit in this box.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone, I'm going to start a collection of prompts and other writing submissions, as well as any mini fics that will fit under this title. The first is my head canon bingo submission. There will be more of these, as well as some other types of submissions. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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 **Richonne Head Canon Bingo**

 **19\. What is their favorite feature of their partner's?**

His voice was both a weapon and a salve; a call to arms, and the sweetest welcome home. She'd heard him use it to issue deadly promises to his enemies, and intone sweet lullabies to his infant daughter.

Cold and sharp to those who would wrong him, his inflection turned soft and smooth when they were alone and intimately entwined. That gentle drawl coursed through her like a song she remembered from another lifetime, a soundtrack to his surprisingly reverent touch.

His accent came from a place that didn't exist anymore, so now it was all Rick. Sure, Maggie spoke with a similar twang, and Daryl pulled from the same dialect when he chose his words, but no one spoke just like him. His entire face engaged in the task of forming syllables and sound. She loved to watch the way his tongue and the roof of his mouth worked together to mold his words and push them through his full lips, like they were caressing the audible version of his thoughts, the same way they tended to her body.

His timbre was fierce and confident in battle, tender and sensuous when they made love. Growling with vengeance, booming with the command of leadership, or whispering with desire, every spoken word was a passionate invocation.

She could hear him speaking now, in the next room. She couldn't make out his words, but his melodic cadence told her he was with family, someone who had earned his trust. The sound of him soothed her; broken and vulnerable, pain coursing through her body. His voice was a sentry, a reminder that despite her current occupation, she was safe when he was close.

"Rick." She called to him with a strained voice, longing to hear the tone he reserved just for her. He was there in an instant.

"What is it?" he whispered, kneeling beside her bed, his hand cupping her bruised cheek.

"Can you stay?"

"Of course," he said.

"Tell me something...anything," she asked, closing her eyes to focus on the sound.

He laughed, clasping her hand and bringing it to his lips. He settled into the chair beside her bed in the infirmary and let out a long sigh. He spoke softly, taking her through their day, filling her in on plans and strategy for the war he would lead them through. Intoxicated by the rhythm of his words, she let her eyes close and her thoughts rest in the comfort of his beautiful, strong voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Blood painted a tree with a loud splash as Rick's hatchet sliced through the head of the closest one. He spun on his heel, arm raised, ready for the two over his shoulder. He grabbed the first by the neck, holding it just inches from his face, the growls and spit filling his ears while his blade disabled the other. He kicked the first backwards, following it on unsteady steps until he fell to his knees above it. With one more swing it was done.

"Michonne!" he yelled, wiping blood from his forehead. His blood, their blood; he wasn't sure.

Sweat flew off his brow as his head whipped right, then left, searching. He shoved off of the corpse beneath him, wrapping his hand around the handle of his weapon, reclaiming it from the skull it had just broken. He scanned the top of the hill behind him, where he last saw her, then the thick tree line on either side of the road. Silence. No moans seeping from undead mouths, and no sharp whistle of wind from her blade slicing through the air. He took off running up the incline to where she last stood. "Michonne!"

The slope was steep and the earth was soft from a recent rain. Reddish brown mud slid beneath his boots and he tripped, staining the knees of his jeans with soil and blood. He scrambled to his feet and faced his destination again, finally spotting her standing at the crest. "Hey!" he hollered, relieved. "You ok?"

She didn't answer, she just stared at him with the most vibrant smile he'd ever seen. He matched her stare, eyes combing her, looking her over. She looked fine. She was fine. He started his ascent again, cautiously stepping on the slippery terrain, but he couldn't close the distance. He was climbing, but she was no closer than before. He panicked, starting to run again, and again he fell. "Michonne!"

She shook her head, her beautiful smile never wavering. Her brown eyes beckoned, but he couldn't get his feet underneath him, couldn't get a grip on the earth. As he kicked backwards, desperately searching for traction, he saw one. "Behind you!" he yelled, but she didn't turn. She kept her eyes on him, grinning. Another came out of the trees, arms outstretched, heading right for her.

"No!" he cried, but his screams didn't stir her, she just held his gaze. "Michonne!"

"Rick," she whispered into his ear, stroking his damp chest. His heart beat wildly beneath her hand and pain rolled over his face like a wave.

"Rick." Her hands moved to his biceps, pinning his arms as she moved above him. She pressed her mouth to his, brushing against his lips as she spoke. "Baby, wake up."

His eyes flew open, fear still swimming in them as he tried to focus on her face. His breath was ragged and his hand clutched the back of her neck, pulling her to his chest. "Michonne."

"It's ok. You're awake. I'm here."

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A/N this was my submission to the RJD July 2017 Flash Fic Challenge. Prompt: Wake Up Kiss


	3. Chapter 3

**Richonne Head Canon Bingo**

 **37\. Who would sing their child back to sleep?**

The house was dark when Rick arrived home from his shift in the tower, save for one low burning lantern, flickering on the dining room table where she always left it when he would be returning late. Dropping his bag on the floor, he pushed the door shut behind him, careful not to allow more than a tiny click as it closed. He moved to the living room, taking a seat on the couch and pulling off his boots, so he could move silently when he decided to finish the journey to their bedroom. He wasn't quite ready for sleep yet, and he knew if he slid into bed beside her and tossed and turned she would wake too, so he decided to sit in silence on the couch until his brain stopped firing wildly and his eyes were ready to close.

The night was peaceful, normal even, as normal as it got nowadays. He spotted Carl's shoes discarded beside the coffee table and a few toys that Judith had been playing with strewn about the rug. Without trying all that hard, he could imagine the world was the way it used to be and he was coming home after a night shift, his kids asleep, his wife keeping their bed warm.

The soft sound of crickets chirping outside further served to paint the illusion on his weary mind. He let his eyes close, imagining a time when they had all of this in a world that wasn't overrun with hungry dead and merciless living. The insect's familiar song had almost lulled him to sleep when he heard a sweeter sound drifting through the quiet house and settling in his ear. He sat up a little, turning his head to squint up the dark staircase when he recognized the source. Standing and padding silently up the stairs, he came upon a dim glow being cast from the room where Judith slept, her door cracked just enough for slivers of light and sound to escape.

The wooden rocking chair was creaking a tiny rhythm, harmonizing with the sound of Michonne's soothing voice. She was singing a quiet song, one that he knew well, but never expected to hear on her lips. He peeked his head through the narrow opening, watching as Michonne gently patted Judith's back while her tiny little lids began to sink closed. He closed his too, focusing on the lyrics. " _Just to see you smile, I'd do anything that you wanted me to..."_ Judith loved that song, he thought, smiling proudly to himself.

Not daring to impede on her progress, Rick made his way down the hall, taking the opportunity to prepare for bed without fear of waking her. He finally slipped under the covers, waiting for her to return.

"Hi," she whispered a few moments later, tiptoeing into their room and shutting the door.

"Hey. Did you get her back to sleep?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "She's been a little fussy tonight." She crawled into the bed, greeting him properly with a kiss, then settling her cheek on his chest as she lay beside him.

"You knew the trick, though," he smirked, unable to allow this to go unmentioned.

"What trick?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I heard you singing it."

"I don't know what you think you heard," she said, turning away from him and settling on her side.

"Admit it, Michonne. You've gone country."

He couldn't help but laugh at the stricken look on her face at his accusation. "I have not, and will not go country, Grimes. It was just stuck in my head because it's the only song you know and I've heard it a million times now."

"I think you like it just as much as Judith," he said, poking her side playfully until she turned back to face him.

"Rick," she said sternly. "I like you, and I like getting Judith back to sleep, but I do _not_ like that song."

"Whatever you say," he laughed. He reached over to turn down the wick on the lantern beside their bed and pulled her back into his embrace. When he felt her begin to drift off he ran a hand along her arm, stroking her skin and whispering the rest of the song. " _I'd never count the cost. It's worth all that's lost...just to see you smile_."

A/N The song they were singing is "Just to see you smile" by Tim McGraw. I feel like Rick would like this song :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Richonne Head Canon Bingo**

 **46\. (Free Space) Do they get along with their in-laws?**

"It looks like the town little league team is going to the national championship game," Michonne said, holding up the newspaper and folding it over so Rebeccah could see the picture.

"Oh, isn't that something. Those kids will have so many memories." She smiled to herself, her eyes looking as if they were watching a movie playing on the far wall of the room.

Rick had brightened Carl's old room up a little for his mother when he went to college, clearing out some of the clutter and bringing in some of her houseplants to line the window sill, but his posters still hung on the walls. Across the room hung a framed picture of the Atlanta Braves roster from a few years ago, and Michonne wondered if Rebeccah was able to distinguish between the story she was hearing and the professional players she was looking at.

It was like that now for her, the present and the past, reality and stories she heard, blending like a double exposed photo in her mind. Sometimes she thought Carl was Rick, confused as to which time of her life she was living, and she would often look at Judith as if she was supposed to recognize her, but she didn't want to admit she didn't. She always recognized Michonne, though. Even during the times that she couldn't place how she fit into the rest of the picture she was seeing; she always knew her name and knew that she was a friend.

Rick said it was because she was so beautiful even a broken mind couldn't forget her face. He was always saying things like that. The right thing. The words that would help her focus on the good times, even when the rest was so hard. He knew exactly how to explain Rebeccah's struggle to their kids, so that they never felt slighted when she called them by the wrong name, or asked them questions that were really meant for whomever she was seeing in her head when she spoke to them: a friend who had passed, or a child that had long since grown into an adult. Even when his mother would call him by his father's name, bringing up old grievances from their fifty years of marriage, Rick would play along, apologizing on his father's behalf and gently moving her to a simpler subject.

Michonne was having a harder time. She didn't want to lean on Rick; it was his mother whose body was following her mind's slow path to the end, but she felt it as if it were her own. She'd already buried her own mother years ago and Rebeccah had filled a void for her. They had a close relationship and the thought of saying goodbye was breaking her in two. Rick seemed to understand that, letting her come to him for comfort when it should have been the other way around, but Michonne got the feeling that keeping everyone else afloat was his own way of dealing with it. It was just another time that their needs fit so perfectly together.

"Would you get me some tea, dear?" Rebeccah asked quietly, the private path she was forging through her muddled mind seemingly tiring her.

"Of course," Michonne answered. She stood from the chair they had pulled next to her bed and placed her hand over her mother-in-law's, with a comforting squeeze.

"Michonne," Rebeccah said, wrapping her frail fingers around her hand. "I've always loved you for what you did for my boys. Don't think I don't feel you doing the same for me now."

Michonne's bottom lip began to quiver and she forced herself to nod an acknowledgement before bending to place a kiss on the woman's forehead and turning to go. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the tears rushed forward, advancing down her cheeks like an army she was powerless to stop. She brought the back of her hand to her eyes, wiping as she walked down the hallway, onto the staircase and right into Rick, startling herself.

"Hey," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders and tilting his head to meet her bleary gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I just...thank you," she croaked out.

"Me? For what?"

"For her. For this. I know we're going to lose her, but I'm just so grateful to have ever had her."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tucking her head under his chin, and let out a long sigh. She could feel the tightness in his chest from his attempt to hold in his own reaction, until eventually the warm trail of his tears fell onto her face and mixed with her own. He sank down onto the stairs, pulling her with him and they sat, quietly considering all the woman upstairs meant to them. Finally, he wiped his own eyes then brushed the hair from her face, kissing her forehead. "She loves you, too. You're the one she knows, 'cause you're the heart of us. She can feel us all through you. I'm not good at any of this, getting through to her. I just hope I told her enough when her mind was right. But you, you can still tell her now, so thank you, for saying what I can't."

She held onto him tighter, whispering into his shirt, damp with her tears. "We're so lucky for everything we have. We have to remember that, when she's gone."

He tipped her chin toward him, finding her lips this time. "I remember it every day."

(A/N for anyone who has read Right Where We're Supposed To Be, this is the same universe.)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N This is my chapter for the round robin titled Room 2469, for the We're The Ones Who Write blog. Rick and Michonne have a yearly tradition of returning to the same hotel room to celebrate their anniversary. I had year 5. You can read the entire story at their ff page with all of the other chapters by some amazing writers. Check it out!**

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"Michonne, we've been gone an hour. I'm not calling her." Rick cupped his wife's cheek, trying his best to assuage her worries with a tender look, his other hand offering a gentle squeeze of her ass. "We've got twenty three more of 'em, let's make the most of it."

"I just want to make sure he's taking the bottle," she said, feeling the tingling start in her breasts at just the thought of her baby feeding without her.

He reached around her and slid the key card into the slot on the hotel room door, listening for the double beep that welcomed them to their much needed night away. "You watched him take one before we left. Please try to relax? We only do this once a year."

She offered him a forced smile, fighting her inclination to call the whole thing off and rush back home. Her husband however, was looking extremely handsome in his persuasiveness, as he leaned over her with a playful pout, and now she was beginning to feel a tingling in another part of her body; one that hadn't made an appearance in awhile. It was all very confusing, and she sighed heavily at the conundrum.

They needed this, she decided. Having a newborn was exhausting and draining, and though it was a welcome one, the pregnancy had been a complete surprise, giving them very little time to adjust their lives to accommodate for such a shift. The very thing that led them to their happy little accident, their healthy sexual relationship, had suffered the most because of it.

Rick pushed the door open behind her and she backed into the room with revived excitement, gearing up for the moment when she would lay eyes on their annual getaway. A big grin made its way to her face as she spun around to take it in, giddiness beginning to push out the apprehension that had been lodged in her chest. When she finally got a good look at the room, however, her grin turned into a frown. "It's different," she said, scanning the unfamiliar furnishings that now sat like strangers in a room she had memorized as well as her own.

Rick trailed his fingers along her waist as he passed her, tossing their luggage on the bed. "Musta redecorated," he said as he plopped down beside the suitcase and removed his jacket.

"I guess," she said. She took a few steps around the room, surveying the new modern artwork hanging on the walls and the overstuffed chairs situated by the window where two classic wing backs had sat before.

"Come over here," he said, reaching a hand out to her.

She walked across the room and came to stand before him with her hands on her hips.

"Closer." He pulled her into him, parting his knees so she could step between them.

"I can't believe the last time we were here we made him," she said, rubbing a hand absently over her belly that still hadn't returned to its former taut condition. Rick noticed the gesture and pressed his lips over her fingers, his hands kneading her backside indulgently. "Now, a year later, our whole lives are different. It's surreal. I barely remember life before him." He looked back up at her as she continued to take in the state of the room with a pensive look on her face.

"You wanna call?" he asked, a smile over taking his lustful eyes.

She nodded, with a guilty grin.

"Alright," he sighed, checking his watch. "We've got dinner reservations in thirty minutes anyway. Give your mom a call and I'll unpack a little."

…

Michonne's usual sexy, rich laughter had transformed into girlish giggles as she sat across the candle lit table from him, sipping her wine. Rick leaned back in his chair, watching her amusedly.

"Normally I'd suggest you slow down a little bit," he drawled, his tongue swiping his lower lip as he took in her mirth. "But I'm happy you're havin' a good time."

"I'm having a very good time," she said, leaning forward across the table and flirtatiously batting her eyelashes at him.

After a successful call to her mother, who assured her Carl had eaten, napped, and been generally happy since they left, she had started to loosen up. She held her glass in one hand, her other draped across the table where the waiter had just removed her empty plate, and she let her elbows press against the sides of her ample cleavage in an unnecessary attempt at drawing his attention. She already had it.

"You want dessert?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he watched her toy with him. She shook her head slowly, her eyes trained on his, and he felt her bare foot travel up the inside of his thigh before settling in his lap. He quickly took it in his hand, squeezing her toes to stop their mischief, afraid he wouldn't be able to walk out of the restaurant properly if she kept going.

He brought his own glass to his lips, quickly draining the short tumbler of amber colored liquor, and swiveled his head back and forth, searching for the waiter.

"This was a good idea," she said, finishing her wine and setting her chin in her hand.

Rick caught the attention of their server and held a hand up, signing the air with an invisible pen to let him know he wanted the check, stat. Michonne was happy, relaxed and obviously feeling as sexy as she looked, and he wanted to take advantage of that starting five minutes ago.

"It was a good idea." He kept his eyes on her as the young man, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, moved behind the bar to retrieve their bill.

"Sometimes it's hard to separate being a woman with being a mother," she mused, still staring rather dreamily across the table. "Even these have found an altogether different purpose." She glanced down at the round tops of her breasts, heaving out of the neckline of her red dress. He'd helped her zip up the short sheath cut garment before they headed out to dinner and he couldn't help but notice the look of irritation on her face when the fabric stretched tightly across her midsection, where it used to hang freely. "It's hard to feel pretty when your body has a more...practical purpose"

"You're gorgeous as ever, baby," he said, genuinely. Motherhood looked good on her as far as he was concerned. Her body had changed to accommodate a piece of him inside her; there was nothing sexier than that.

"You say that...but…" Her words were slow and deliberate, the half a bottle of wine she had consumed making them more difficult.

"I'll show you then."

As if feeling the urgency radiating from Rick's fixed blue eyes, the waiter appeared in a hurry, dropping the bill on the table. Rick motioned for him to stay and pulled his card out of his wallet, handing it to him with his gaze still deliberately on his wife.

Three minutes later, Rick was scribbling a tip and signing his name on the slip as quickly as he could, before standing to take Michonne's hand.

She squeezed his fingers as they swooped out of the door and into the dark of night. The cool air and romantic twinkling light of the imitation gas lamps that lined the sidewalk only drove them closer together as they walked. It was a few short blocks to their hotel, and the doorman greeted them as they made their way into the bright lobby, Rick's arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, both of their fingers digging into the other's flesh.

They stepped onto the elevator car, both grinning when they found it empty, and after pressing the button to take them to the top floor, Rick turned to her with a look that threatened to set her on fire. She backed up against the wall and he stepped to her, placing a hand beside her head, and trapping her with his stance. He dropped his face to the crook of her neck, kissing his way up to her ear, then used his teeth to bring the lobe into his mouth. Michonne reached for the silk tie she had gifted him for this occasion and wrapped it around her wrist to hold him in place.

The loud ding of the bell alerting them to their destination startled her, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, jumping in place. He ran his hand down her bare arm, settling their palms together and lacing their fingers as he pulled her along behind him. When they got to their favorite room, he brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently to settle their pace before swiping the key card. He didn't want to rush this.

They pushed into the room, still smiling at each other, and he allowed himself a moment to take in her full form, standing before him, dressed to the nines, and looking radiant from the wine and the carefree evening.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a thought occuring to her as she watched him watch her. "I have something." She turned around, wobbling a little on her heels before kicking them off and crossing the room to her luggage. "Turn around."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, refusing her request, and pushing aside the tails of his suit coat to rest his hand on his hips.

"Actually, get undressed," she said, "and…" she faltered a little pointing around the room until she remembered the direction of the bathroom. "Brush your teeth. You taste like Scotch."

He shook his head, chuckling at her orders, but acquiesced, wondering what she was hiding. "You want me to call your mom?" he asked, loosening his tie and heading off in the direction of the suite's living area. "I feel like you shouldn't."

She smiled at him while rummaging through her bag, knowing he was probably right. "Ok. Carl should be asleep by now. Just get a quick update and hurry back."

"Yes ma'am," he said, tossing her a playful salute and heading out of sight.

…

Rick spent exactly four and a half minutes speaking to Michonne's mother, and another five in the bathroom following her instructions, before making his way back to the side of the room where he had left her. When he entered the bedroom, the lights were dimmed and Michonne was stretched across the mattress on her tummy. Her little red dress replaced with a little red slip that had spaghetti straps and was lined with black lace along the hem. He felt his boxer briefs begin to tighten as his eyes ran the length of her, focusing on all of the smooth, dark skin that had been recently exposed by the wardrobe change, and he reached down to adjust the growing bulge. She had her head propped on her bent arm, facing the window that looked out over the skyline lit up by the lights of vacationers, partiers and lovers all over the city, and her feet were crossed daintily at the ankles.

"Is that for me?" he said, taking a few more steps until he was all the way in the room. She didn't answer him and he took that as his cue to find out for himself, padding around the bed to stand before her. What he found, however, had his lustful eyes crinkling in amusement. "'Chonne."

Her cheek resting in her palm, and her lips slightly parted, she was fast asleep. Rick ran a heavy hand over his face then smiled down at her again, musing over her previous reflection about how much things had changed. It was temporary though, he knew that, and despite his physical readiness, he knew he could use the sleep as well.

He gently removed her hand, cradling her head in his palm and lowering it down to the pillow, then moved to the foot of the bed, unfolding the heavy blanket draped there. He pulled it up around her, then turned to switch off the lamp on the table beside her, creeping around to his side in the dark. He crawled onto the huge bed on his hands and knees, until he was settled right beside her, and lay down, pulling her warm body into his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and tucked his knees into the curve of hers, getting as close as possible, then drifted off to enjoy the first uninterrupted night of sleep either of them had had in the last three months.

…

In his haste to join her the night before, Rick had forgotten to close the heavy drapes that covered the picture window on the wall beside their bed, so now the light of the very early morning was shining directly in his eyes as he tried to enjoy the rare occasion to sleep in.

Michonne was stirring awake as well, not because of the light assaulting her eyelids, but because of the very obvious morning greeting from her husband pressed into the cheek of her ass. She instinctively pushed herself backwards into him, pulling him all the way into consciousness as his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," he drawled, his lips pressed into her hair.

"Oh my God," she said, stretching her arms over her head and straightening her legs. "I fell asleep!"

"You did," he chuckled softly, gripping her hips while she stretched, to maintain their contact.

"I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you looked so peaceful," he smiled, letting his fingers roam the silky fabric of her nightie. "And frankly, I was exhausted too."

She laughed with him at his confession. "I guess we both needed the sleep," she sighed. Shifting in his arms, she turned around to face him, reaching up to stroke the thick stubble on his chin that he had sprouted overnight. "But I needed something else too…"

Rick leaned in to kiss her, sliding a hand down her thigh to wrap her leg around his waist. He pulled away briefly, lifting his wrist in the air and squinting at his watch. "We still have five hours left till check out."

"That should be enough time," she said with a smirk.

He nodded in agreement then leaned in again, this time parting her lips with his tongue as his grip on her waist tightened. She could feel his length, now pressed into her stomach, and she moaned at the anticipation. "I miss Carl," she whispered against his lips, "but I also missed this." A lazy morning with just the two of them, wrapped up in each other and a mess of sheets, might as well have been a fairytale from one of the illustrated board books in their son's nursery. Life had sped up considerably, and now they finally had a moment to slow down and just be together in this place that had caught a glimpse of every version of them. From strangers, to lovers, to newlyweds; adding mommy and daddy to the list of titles they'd come here wearing seemed only fitting.

"I missed this too," he replied, staring into her eyes with the same longing.

Rick wrapped an arm around her waist, deftly maneuvering her beneath him, and came to rest on his forearms above her. He started at her neck, working his mouth along her skin and inching downward until he felt her hands wrap around his biceps, halting his progress. He lifted his head from the smooth, cool fabric of her lingerie to peer up at her eyes, widened with apprehension. He had been expecting her reluctance, but it had been three months since he'd tasted her and he'd be damned if he was going to let any misplaced insecurities keep him from his rightful place any longer. "Let me, baby," he whispered, fixing her with a firm, yet understanding, look.

Michonne squirmed a little under his intense stare. They hadn't even waited the full six weeks to get back to making love, but this was different. The rest of her body was still wearing all of the medals she'd earned giving life to their child, and she knew her most intimate parts wouldn't be any different. "Rick…" she started, her legs tensing to lock him in place.

"Shhh," he soothed, massaging her hip with his hand. "I got you, Michonne. Let me."

She pulled in a calming breath and picked her head up off of the pillow to look at him. She knew she'd denied him, and herself, long enough. She was nervous to find out how this would change, in the same way everything else had seemed to, but looking down into his earnest blue eyes, she knew she could never be any safer than in his hands. She trusted him implicitly-with her life even, and now the life of her child; when Rick promised he had her, she knew he meant it. Finally nodding a weak agreement, she loosened her grip on him and sank back into the pillow letting her knees fall farther apart.

Rick glanced down to take her in, a grin stretching across his face when he saw the red silk panties that were his anniversary gift to her. His pride over his gift was short lived though, as he realized those needed to go. He hooked his thumbs inside of them, pulling them down her long legs and tossing them over his shoulder. He continued his journey, feeling a little like it was his first time, instead of his most time honored indulgence, and gently pressed his lips to her inner thigh to help her relax the muscles there.

Michonne clenched her eyes shut, readying herself for his affection.

He parted her with his fingers, and she let out a short gasp at the feel of him, grabbing a fistful of his hair in response. "You ok?" he asked, pulling back a little. She hummed out an affirmative and tried again to allow her body to relax.

True to his word, he eased into it slowly, allowing her time to adjust to the familiar, yet altogether different sensation that was her husband's lips on her center. His warm breath and soft, supple tongue coaxed tiny shivers from her lower half, and he hadn't even gotten to work yet.

She'd heard other women say that pregnancy and childbirth, for all of the marks it left on the outside, gave you an even more intimate understanding of your body, like exploring a house you'd lived in your whole life, only to find secret passageways and doors that had suddenly become unlocked. Maybe it was just the length of time she'd gone without this particular pleasure, but she was beginning to believe the mythology.

Rick, satisfied with her waning resistance, continued along the path he knew like the back of his hand. A finely tuned and well practiced choreography that he'd made it his mission to master. He was more than pleased to find that, despite her trepidation, all of the steps still fit the music.

She'd given up her tentative hold on his head, completely surrendering to the point of no return, and now her fingers clutched and released the white sheets beneath her in tandem with her rhythmic breaths. Her hips moved against him now, and she swore she could feel the grin creeping across his face as all of her inhibitions left her.

She was so consumed with the shift from worry to divine resignation that her peak bowled into her like a rogue wave. She let out one long cry and he held her in place as she instinctively tried to run away from the intensity.

"Oh my God," she moaned, as she fought to catch her breath. A lazy smile stretched across her face, further boosting his confidence that he'd put one set of reservations to bed once and for all, but he still had a little more work to do.

He sat on knees above her, stroking himself while he watched her shiver with one more latent aftershock, before finally opening her eyes.

"That's pretty, Michonne," he said, gesturing with his chin to her slip, now bunched around her hips. "But it's still a lotta clothes for what I wanna do to you."

She ran a hand over her belly, smoothing the satin out with her palm, and eyeing him with a look of consternation. He wasn't giving in this time either, though. They had hours left in their night away, and he would use every one of them to convince her how beautiful she was if he had to. He let go of himself to run both of his hand up her thighs and over her hips, taking the fabric with him as he perused the skin that was exposed in its wake. He licked his lips, still tasting his first victory on them, while he contemplated his second. Setting about the reverse trip back up her body, he pressed his mouth to the soft flesh just beneath her navel, feeling its new suppleness absorb his lips and the tip of his nose. He felt her tense again and he repeated the action to the left and the the right of the slightly larger aperture in the center of her abdomen, smiling at the memory of it popped out of the curve of her swollen belly.

"Can you come up here and stop torturing me," she sighed, growing impatient with the point he was trying desperately to make. She knew he wouldn't give up until she surrendered.

"I promised to show you how beautiful you are," he said, palming her round hip and squeezing hard. "I can't have you doubting it."

"I believe you," she said. "Now come here. Please?"

He didn't need to be told twice, crawling the rest of the way up her body until they were face to face, and pressing himself wantonly into the same flesh he had just been worshipping. "I know everything feels like it's changed, Michonne," he said, cupping her face while he rocked against her. "And it has. I know it has, because I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do right now." He kissed her before she could respond, lifting her bottom with the hand that had been resting on her waist, and he pushed inside of her with one long stroke that left them both hissing sharply through their teeth.

He began to move inside her, again choosing an extremely gentle touch. It hadn't been a particularly easy birth and though they'd gotten right back at it as soon as she'd felt up to it, he'd been treating her with kid gloves ever since he'd caught her wince their first time after Carl.

She could feel him holding back, and with a renewed confidence in her body's appeal and ability, she lifted to meet him, urging him on. "It's ok, Rick," she said, digging her fingers into his back as he pushed in a little deeper. She wrapped her leg around his, flexing her thigh to pull him against her every time he thrust.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, knowing that if he looked at her this was going to be over way before he wanted it to. "You're good?" he rasped, barely getting the words out before she moaned her answer.

"I'm good," she said. "Don't stop."

The very slight discomfort that still persisted when he let himself use his full force began to mix with the waves of pleasure, until they were all part of the same symphony of firing nerve endings, indistinguishable from each other. He grasped the back of her thigh, pushing her knee up until she could hook it over his shoulder and suddenly forgot every cautious intention he'd started with.

"Rick," she said, her hands finding the curls at the back of his head and gripping them like the handlebar on a rollercoaster as she felt that undeniable tightening of her body proving its resilience once again.

That was all he could handle as the sensation and her pleasured gasps untied the last thread of restraint he's been holding onto. He threw his head back, cursing loudly, before dropping his forehead to hers with a low growl.

"Christ," he laughed after a moment of them staring at each other and panting the same air. He rolled off of her, flopping on his back. "It's been awhile since we've done it like that. You sure you're ok?"

"I'm more than ok," she said, dreamily, her eyes rolling shut.

"I love you," he whispered, staring up at the ceiling and reaching out for her hand. She laced their fingers together, and he circled his thumb on the inside of her palm.

"I love you, too, Rick."

"Michonne?"

"Hmm?"

"You wanna go home and see Carl?"

Michonne broke out into a soft chuckle, tossing an arm over her eyes. "You know I do," she admitted.

"Me too," he said, his own grin growing to match hers. "Let's pack."


End file.
